


Nude Male Model Needed

by huntthewicked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Reader, Attempt at Humor, College Student Dean, Dean Smokes, Dean is Eighteen Years Old, Dean is a cocky little shit, Drawing, F/M, Happy Ending, Innuendo, Nude Modeling, Reader is a virgin, Slight Anxiety, reader is insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7833307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntthewicked/pseuds/huntthewicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader puts up an ad for a nude life model at college and Dean responds</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nude Male Model Needed

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a shitpost with lots of stupid innuendos.

You'd put the sign up sheet out a month before.

'Nude male model needed, anyone can apply' Short, easy.

Now you're in one of the art studios of the University with Dean Winchester sitting in front of you. And it's not the first time.

"So, where'd you want me sweetheart" He winks, slyly and walks to the raised platform.

You hate these situations. Always so awkward and incapable to even make eye contact. Because you're going to see everything. It's so much easier with still life objects but the course you're on requires people studies. Naturally you'd put it off, not participating with everyone else and now you're alone on a Saturday with a guy who is so clearly flirting with you and has been for the last four sessions. 

Except you're too uncomfortable to say anything besides yes/no.

Picking up the charcoal pencil and flicking to a clean page on the A3 pad that's resting on the easel, you nod and say 'There's fine'.

"And what do you want me to do? Anything more... Adventurous?" Another wink.

It would be too much to admit to yourself that you like him. In any case, it's probably a joke to him. Entirely impossible for someone like him to be interested in you.

Dean studies sexual anthropology and mythology and folklore and he's not shy about himself. At all. Whereas you can barely accept a smile from someone without thinking about it all week. Hence why he's becoming an issue. But for some reason he keeps signing up and you need someone.

"Not too hard for you?"

You cough and look at him questioningly, "What?"

"To draw. This position?" He's disrobed, boxers still on because you can't handle the full bared stage. At the moment. With this particular guy.

"It's good" You nod and study his features.

Tan skin darkening under his hipbone, the curve of his stomach leading suggestively down. You add shading to that section of the paper and draw up, the slight curve of his back and the definition of muscle at his shoulders. From this distance you can see him breathing, see the rise and fall of his chest.

Spending too much time on the outline of his body, you trail your eyes to his face which is focused on yours.

Drawing people in the past was never like this. Since the first session there's been this electric feel when you look at him. When he looks at you.

You blush fiercely and try to steady your hand with sketching his face. It's strange how perfectly his features fit the Da Vinci symmetry guide. Aside from the small crook in his nose which somehow makes him more charming. Slowly you're falling in love with his imperfections.

Whenever you draw him you notice something new, something different and it adds to your intrigue.

Slowly you return to his face and he's still looking at you, this heat in his eyes that seems to increase every time you see him. The room gets hotter and you feel weird. Not like before; stronger.

Because you were always the shy kid at school no one ever noticed you. You'd sit in the back of class and draw in your notebooks, knowing they wouldn't see you because you were invisible. It really impacted your self esteem.

Flipping to the next page in the sketchbook you quickly flick your eyes to his hoping they've moved. And afraid that they have. They haven't.

"Can you..." Removing the pencil from your mouth, you gesture for him to change pose. 

"This position good babe?" He smirks, unabashed at his almost complete nakedness. You admire him for that.

Without looking, you nod. Reaching for the 2B pencil to do a lighter study. As it's in the course requirement, you have to complete some kind of final piece with what you've learnt. At this point you'd willingly do a shrine because hearing him call you that sparks something inside you.

Dean has permanently fluffy hair and he always smells of leather and motor oil. Whenever he leaves he lights a cigarette and takes off in his doc martins across the campus, head turned up at the sky.

You want to express that in your art, his perfect serenity.

"God, this is making me stiff" He complains, huffs out air and scratches at the patch of skin on his leg under his boxers. Chequered black and white with a red button. Not that you'd been looking.

You blush again which seems to be a permanent thing around him. It takes a while for you to realise he means sitting like that but you stop working, assess your drawing which only needs shadow and you can do that afterwards. More about the body's stance.

Really, you're done for the day and the burning sensation in your cheeks solidifies the need to escape.

"Think you could help me out?" He asks, suggestively and waggles his eyebrows, looking down.

"We can stop" You say more then ask and start packing up your stuff. When you get back to your private work space at the back of the art building you'll work on the drawing more and leave the other as more natural.

"Hey wait gorgeous" He stands, cockily slouches across the platform with his legs dangling down and his elbows resting on the ground.

You look at him, tired. You're constantly tired because art is constant, you can never stop working and it ruins your sleeping pattern. As of this moment you've only had four hours of sleep to differentiate yesterday from today. 

"For?" You ask, louder because you're trying to keep yourself from doing something pathetic like walking off and then hating yourself for it for days after like the last time.

"Don't I get to see it?" He seems genuinely curious, not his usual confident front.

"If you want.." You remove the pad from the easel and walk over to him to hand it over. Throughout the entire book is just drawings and sketches of him in different materials done through the past few weeks.

When he flicks to the front to look through them, instead of quickly glancing at each like you expect he studies each image intently.

"Fuck" He breaths in awe. You frown because you know you aren't the best artist. At that stage you could barely stop your hand from shaking because he was so focused on you and you aren't used to people paying attention. Or caring.

"No one's ever seen me, y'know?" You blink, confused at what he means. "The way you draw me, you see me differently to everyone else. It's beautiful"

Part of you wants to tell him that he is beautiful. That this is how everyone sees him because how could they not. But you never really feel like an artist and you always get affected by compliments that are as sincere as his.

"You aren't such a bad subject to draw" You say at last, he's reached today's work and he's so close to the paper he could get a charcoal stain on his nose.

"I think that's the most you've said to me" He grins, passing the pad back to you and bouncing to his feet.

You smile, return to cleaning up. Wanting him to leave and wanting him to stay.

"You're kinda intimidating" You admit, not daring to look up and letting the implication hang in the air.

Dean walks up to you, still clad in just boxers. You look at the muscle of his chest, the slide of his arms. He looks different close up. It takes effort not to reach out and trace every curve of his body with your fingertips. You realise he's aware that you're looking and decide to grow up and experience eye contact.

Green like deep forests in the spring, growing and bursting with life. You've never seen eyes this stunning and wild. Before you never see him again, you need to paint his portrait.

He ducks his head, its the first time you've seen him remotely nervous. Always joking and flirting and watching. Intensely.

"What?" You ask, gaining confidence at the prospect of him being nervous because of you. You having an effect on him.

He blinks, a smile stretches across his face lighting his whole face up and you're focused on the sharp edge of his jawbone. And what that would feel like beneath your tongue.

"You" He laughs, stares at you and gets closer. Reaches out to brush a finger under your chin which brings you closer.

From here you can feel his breath on your lips, see the darkness cloud his eyes and your breathing quickens as your heart is racing. You want this. Him.

Dean smirks, knows he has you and probably knows he has from the first day he walked in and announced "I'm your nude for the day" and laughed like raindrops on pavement.

He slowly leans in and kisses you, his tongue flicking out to open your mouth and you moan, let him in. His hands go to the side of your neck and he strokes the soft skin there, one hand trailing down to your back which he pulls so you're against him.

The kiss gets more passionate and you feel your body responding. You finally get the courage to move and you're burying your hands in his perfect messy hair, feeling the warmth of his skin. You feel like you could get addicted to this, kissing him is transcending.

After what seems like hours you pull back, blissed out eyes seeing the lust in his.

"You really weren't joking about being stiff" You say in wonderment.


End file.
